


FT MEfiDE 
GenCol 1 


REAL 2^. 
OUT/-DOOR STORIES 

Written by 

CLARA J. DENTON 


Illustrated byVera Stone 

Real bird insect and animal stories 













REAL OUT-OF-DOOR 

STORIES 


OTHER WORTH-WHILE BOOKS 


By Eloise Byington 
THE DOLL LAND STORIES 

By Laura Rountree Smith 

THE COMICAL CIRCUS 
HAPPY MANIKIN 
JOLLY POLLY AND CURLY 
TAIL 

THE SIX TIDDLY WINKS 


The best easy reading books for 
the young people. 

Ideal books that are humorous and 
instructive. 


JUST RIGHT BOOKS 
Published by 

ALBERT WHITMAN COMPANY 
Write for Our Complete Catalogue 




REAL 

OUT/DO ORATORIES 

R^al stories of birds, insects and animals 

Written by CLARA J DENTON 

Illustrated by 
VERA STONE 



A JUST RIGHT BOOK 


Published by 

ALBERT WHITMAN COMPANY 


CHICAGO USA. 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 

Copyright 1922 by Albert Whitman Company 
Chicago, U. S. A. 


A JUST RIGHT BOOK 

MADE IN U. 

^ 22 
© C1T675838 


A. 


FOREWORD 

These stories by Clara J. Denton, the well known 
writer for children, are something new and unusual 
in the way of stories for the little folks. They give 
us real stories of the real doings of live creatures. A 
class of reading for children which is altogether too 
uncommon. They are not fairy stories, nor imaginary 
deeds of imaginary animals, although often even more 
wonderful than fairy tales, but they recount actual 
happenings, and in many cases portray unsuspected 
capabilities in ordinary every day birds, animals and 
insects. Give them to the children who are persist- 
ently asking for “stories about things which really hap- 
pened,” and you will not be disappointed in the chil- 
dren’s assimilation of the stories, nor in the wholesome 
morals which the little ones will unconsciously absorb. 

Unlike many stories of this character, they are all 
vouched for by the author, who has ever been an 
observer of all living creatures, and has never lost an 
opportunity to record facts which she has seen with 
her own observing eyes. 

The book should find a place in every home and 
school library, where it is certain to meet a warm wel- 
come. 

There are no dry and uninteresting details in the 
pages, but everything is told in a bright and attractive 
manner. 


NOTE 

The true stories in this book collection, Real Out-ot- 
Door Stories, which have appeared in print before 
are here used by permission of the original publisher, 
and thanks is given to each publication, as follows: 

The Christian for, “Work for Neighbors,” “Grip,” 
“A Queer JLuncheon,” “Hole in the Flower Bed;'’ 
The Normal Instructor for, “The Brave Little Hens,” 
“The Cat and Squirrel;” The Epworth Herald for, 
“Just Like Folks,” “The Advocate/' “Cat and Blue 
Jays,” “Glo and the Bees,” “Porky;” The Child's 
Gem for, “The Ants Told,” “A Warm Breakfast;” 
Jewel’s Magazine for, “Robbers,’’ “Tom, the Pet 
Crow,” “Their Summer Home," “The Trap,” “What 
the Wind Did;” Rural Schoolteacher for, “The 
Weasel and Chipmunk;” Progressive Teacher for, 
“What Happened;” Kings Own for, “In a Glass Box;” 
New York Churchman for, “The Chipmunks in 
School.” 


THE CONTENTS 


The Chipmunks in School 
Ned ..... 
Neighbors .... 
The Guardian 
Tom, the Pet Crow 
Glo and the Bees . 

A Queer Luncheon 
The Brave Little Wrens 
What the Wind Did 
The Ants Told 
In a Glass Box . 

Robbers .... 
The Hole in the Flower-Bed . 
Through the Knot-Hole 
A Warm Breakfast 
Their Summer Home . 

“Just Like Folks” 

“What Happened” 

The Trap .... 
Grip ..... 
The Cat and the Squirrel 
“Porky” .... 
The Weasel and the Chipmunk 
The Cat and the Blue Jays . 
Jumbo and the Pail 


page 

1 

9 

12 

14 

18 

22 

26 

28 

31 

35 

39 

44 

49 

53 

57 

61 

66 

71 

75 

82 

87 

91 

96 

99 

103 




1 I 

iff f 

IS I 



1 
i\ U 


Mrs. Wren Was Close Behind Him 




Real Out-of-Door 

Stories 


THE CHIPMUNKS IN SCHOOL 

* 

IT was a little log schoolhouse in tlie woods 

and there were only six children in the school, 

but they were sweet and bright and the young 

teacher was very happy with them. She had 

never taught school in a place like that before, 

in fact she had always lived in a large city, 

and she thought it queer and funny to ‘ ‘ teach 

school in the woods.” One dav at the noon 

«/ 


2 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


recess the children went off: .to pick wild flow- 
ers, and the teacher sat all alone in the school- 
house reading. 

In the midst of the quiet she thought that 
she heard a sound which was not the breeze 
stirring the leaves out of doors, and strangest 
of all the sound seemed right in the school- 
house. Her first thought was ‘ ‘ a mouse, ? ’ but 
as she was not afraid of a mouse she did not 
scream, nor jump on a chair, as the girls do 
in stories; she just raised her eyes from the 
book and without moving at all, she looked 
around the room. What do you suppose she 
saw? 

Down on the floor in front of the bench 
where the children had sat to eat their 
luncheons, was a little red chipmunk, sitting 
up on his haunches and holding in his funny 
black paws a crumb of bread, at which he was 
nibbling as if he thought it was the finest 
daintv in the world. 


THE CHIPMUNKS IN SCHOOL 


3 


His bright black eyes were fixed on the 
teacher, and she knew that if she stirred even 
the least little bit he would scamper off, so she 
almost held her breath. Prettv soon she saw 
another reddish head rise over the window sill. 
The round black nose sniffed the air a moment 

"v- . ^ ‘ •• „-••• ' • - .t T i; • ■ v 

as if to ask, “ Is it all safe ? ’ ’ Then hearing no 
dangerous sound, the little fellow scampered 
through the open window, and came to its 
mate on the floor, all the while, however, keep- 
ing its eye on the quiet teacher. What a merry 
feast they had — and when they had eaten up 
all the crumbs as clean as you could have swept 

y 'q .i, _ 4 ’■ *\ ■ '•jit 

them with a broom, away they scampered 
again. 

After that day the teacher spent no more 
of her recesses reading under the trees, as she 
had sometimes done, but sat out the time in 
the quiet schoolhouse watching her friends, 
the chipmunks. She was careful to sprinkle 
each day, some extra crumbs in front of the 


4 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


bench where they were in the habit of coming. 
After awhile she sprinkled some crumbs near 
her own desk, to tempt them closer to her. It 



did not take the chipmunks long to learn that 
the teacher was truly their friend and when 
they had grown so tame that they would come 



THE CHIPMUNKS IN SCHOOL 


5 


up and eat out of her fingers she decided to 
tell the children about them. So, one warm 
day, when the children were tired and restless, 
she said to them, “Now put up your books, sit 
very still and I will tell you a pretty story 
which I promise you shall be true.” 

She began by asking how many children 
had ever seen a chipmunk. Of course every 
hand went up, for all country children know 
the lively, little chipmunk. Then she told 
them about some chipmunks coming into a 
schoolhouse where a teacher was sitting all 
alone. She had to answer a great many ques- 
tions about this part of the story and when 
she had finished, she added, smiling, “Now, 
children, the best part of this story is, that I 
am the teacher I have been telling you about, 
and this is the schoolhouse where the chip- 
munks come every day when you are out at 
play. ’ ’ 

This part of the story delighted the children 
more than ever, and in a moment she added, 


6 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


“Do you know, I think that if we sit perfectly 
quiet, the chipmunks will come in at the win- 
dow and run up to my desk. I have some 
kernels of corn in my hand and I think if we 
are perfectly quiet, they will eat out of my 
fingers, but if you make the slightest sound 
they will scamper off like two flashes.” 

So they all settled down to quiet waiting. 
It was pretty hard for some of the restless 
ones, but they were all so anxious for the won- 
derful sight, that they held themselves still 
for more than five minutes, which seemed to 
them at least an hour. All eyes were fixed on 
the window. At last a black, little nose was 
sticking up over the window sill. How still 
everybody was ; the teacher thought she could 
almost hear the children’s hearts beat. The 
pretty little visitor watchfully halted on the 
edge of the window sill, sat up on his slim, little 
haunches, sniffed and looked around as if it 
was thinking, “Well, I never ! What does this 


THE CHIPMUNKS IN SCHOOL 


7 


mean ? Boys and girls, as true as I’m a chip- 
munk ! Boys throw stones and girls chase like 
everything, but these are so quiet, it can’t he 
that they are real boys and girls.” Then his 
eyes fell on the yellow kernels in the teacher’s 
fingers and like a flash he scurried along and 
jumped to the floor. In another moment there 
was a scraping sound along a log, and lo ! there 
was the other chipmunk, sitting up beside its 
mate and nibbling at another kernel of corn. 
This wonderful sight was too much for one 
little fellow and he gave a long, delighted 
“O-o-o!” Well, at that, you ought to have 
seen those eight nimble feet scurry along the 
log, and before the children could wink the 
pretty visitors were gone. - 

But this was not their last visit, and the chil- 
dren, through always hoping for their appear- 
ance, became the quietest and the most orderly 
pupils in the whole country. They learned to 
move silently, to speak softly, to study without 


8 REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


moving their lips, to lay down their books and 
other belongings noiselessly and not to whis- 
per to each other. 

In fact I do believe that they made the least 
noise of any other six children who ever lived. 
It became a fixed habit with them too, and 
every one who visited the school praised the 
teacher for her quiet pupils. Then she would 
tell this story, which I know is true, for I was 
there to see it. 




And Then Taking Him into Her Hand She Turned His Head 

Toward Home 


NED 

HE was a pet pigeon, who followed his mis- 
tress everywhere, but would not let his master 
touch him, or even come near him. There was 
good reason for this fear of his master, for he 
was a travelling salesman and was at home on 
Sundays only. 

Ned was so determined to follow his mis- 
tress everywhere that when she went away 
from home, she always caught him and shut 
lum up in his cage. 


10 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


One warm Sunday morning in June, as she 
came out upon the porch she said to her 
husband, 

“Do you know where Ned is? I must shut 
him up before I go to church.” 

“No,” was the answer, “but as he is no- 
where in sight, he will not know when you go. 
I hate to see him shut up.” 

So the mistress went on her way. She had 
gone but half a block when she heard a whir- 
ring sound and the next moment Ned lit on 
her shoulder. 

She scolded him, and then taking him in her 
hand she turned his head toward home and 
then tossed him into the air as high as she 
could throw him. Then she went on, almost 
running, and soon turned the corner. 

“Now,” she said to herself, “Mr. Ned can- 
not find me.” 

She was in such great haste that she did not 
stop to look behind her, but hurried into the 
church and took her seat. 


NED 


11 


She thought she was pretty clever to get 
away from Ned in this way, but presently 
someone opened the church door; then she 
heard the whir of wings and there was Ned 
on her shoulder again ! 

This time she carried him home, fully in- 

•/ 

tending to shut him up. 

But when her husband heard what she 
meant to do, he begged her to let the poor 
bird go. 

“Well,” she said impatiently, “there is only 
one wav to keep him from following me, and 
that is for you to come with me, and that too, 
is the only thing which will keep me from shut- 
ting him up. Hurry now, for there goes the 
last bell.” 

So the good husband put on his hat and went 
along to church with his wife, while the pigeon 
sat on the porch-railing and looked after them 
as if he knew that he had forced the man of 
the house to go to church with his wife. Isn’t 
it a pity there are not more pigeons like Ned? 



Buster Ran Back to His Dish 


NEIGHBORS 

NOODLES and Buster had been neighbors 
for two years, and although they were very 
friendly, they showed that they were jealous 
of each other. One day when Noodles’ mis- 
tress gave him his dinner of potatoes and 


NEIGHBORS 


13 


gravy, he smelled it all over and then walked 
away with an offended air. He thought it was 
not good enough because there was no meat 
mixed with the potatoes and gravy. Then his 
mistress said, “ All right, I’ll give it to Buster,” 
and she set the plate out on the back porch. 
Noodles ran after her and immediately ate up 
every bit of the dinner. Noodles’ mistress 
told Buster ’s mistress about this, and the next 
time Buster turned away from his food 
she said, “All right, Noodles shall have it,” 
and it was placed on the back porch. Then 
what do you think happened? Buster ran 
back to his dish and ate up every crumb, 
even licking the dish. You see, each dog 
knew the other’s name as well as he knew 
his own, and when the victuals were on the 
back porch, each knew the other could get it 
if he wanted to. Dogs are almost as queer as 
people sometimes, aren ’t they % 


THE GUARDIAN 


THERE was a great commotion in the low 
nest beside the big stump, and well there might 
be, for coming across the meadow with banners 
flying and drums beating was an army of boys 
and girls. 

“Come, come,” called Father Meadow Lark, 
“Come away, don’t you see what is near us? 
They can only destroy the nest and we can 
build another and you can lay more eggs, but 
if you stay around here they’ll surely kill you. 
Come, I say.” And he made sure of his own 
neck by flying into the nearest tree. 

Mother Meadow Lark was indeed loath to 
leave her beautiful eggs and she stayed by 
them just as long as she dared, but presently 
the tramping feet seemefl so near and the 
drums sounded so loud that her poor little bird 


THE GUARDIAN 


15 


heart beat with fear and she flew into the tree 
with her mate, leaving the cosy home with its 
four beautiful eggs to its fate. 

Then from their perch on the limb of the tree 
they saw a little boy dart out from among the 
children and take his stand close to the nest. 
The line of march w r as headed directly for the 
same spot, but the guardian of the tiny home 
tailed out, 

“Go back, go back, go bn the other side of 
the stump, you mustn’t come on this side.” 

The teachers heard the command, and, half 
suspecting the cause of it, bade the line obey 
the small captain ’s orders. 

The beautiful pageant marched on to the 
farther side of the meadow, there merry songs 
were sung, recitations and other amusements 
given, but through all the display the little 
guardian stood by the home which he had 
taken into his keeping. Crowds of people 
were passing through the meadow to behold 
the merry play of the children, and the danger 


16 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


to the nest was, indeed, very great. There is 
no doubt it would have been destroyed by the 
sight-seers had it been left to take its chances. 



Go Back! Go Back! 


So the little boy lost the whole of the bright 
May-day pageant and stood faithfully beside 
the stump where the bird’s nest was, until the 
last merry-maker had left the meadow. Then 

he withdrew a little wav and watched the 

•/ 


THE GUARDIAN 17 

mother-bird settle down contentedly upon her 
nest while her mate lit upon the stump and 
sang a song of gratitude for the saving of their 
home. 

I am glad to tell that this is no fancy sketch, 
but the account of a real deed of a real 
live boy. I hope he will never in his whole life 
be without a happy home. He certainly de- 
serves one, you will say, and so say I, for it is a 
noble thing to guard a home whether it be of 
bird, beast, insect or man. 



TOM, THE PET CROW 


TOM was a pet crow as black as tlie stove. He 
stole all the bright things which he could lay 
hold of with his strong bill. Back of the house 
where he lived, there stood an old pump made 
of wood. It was not in a well, as most pumps 
are, but stood flat on the grass. Its top was 
off, so Tom would take the things which lie 
stole and drop them down this place which he 
seemed to think he owned. 

The boys and girls had often watched him, 
and all his tricks were well known, so when 
things could not be found someone would call 
out, 

“Go look in Tom’s pump.” 

Then, with a pair of tongs, all the things in 
the old pump would be fished out. This was 



Then zvith a Pair of Tongs All the Things in the Old Pump Would Be 

Fished Out 



20 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


great fun for tlie boys and girls, but Tom 
would perch near by and call out, ‘ ‘ Caw, caw, ’ ’ 
as if he wished they would go off and let his 
things alone. 

One day there came to the farm a strange 
man with a horse and cart. He stopped at the 
gate and talked to the man who owned Tom. 

“Now,” said the stranger, “I will get my 
lunch and eat while I talk to you to save time.” 
He took his lunch out of the cart and leaned 
on one of the wheels while he talked. He held 
a big piece of pie in his right hand and a piece 
of cheese in his left hand. But, O dear ! just 
as he went to take a bite of the cheese, whiz! 
out of a tree near by, flew Tom and caught the 
cheese out of his hand. The man, of course, 
gave a cry, but Tom was off like a black streak 
and did not stop until he was safe in the top 
of a tall oak tree. 

They all called to Tom, but he stayed in the 
top of the tree till the cheese was all gone, then 


TOM, THE PET CROW 21 

lie screamed “Caw, caw!” and flew off to the 
barn. 

‘ ‘ Come and have a nice warm meal with us, ’ ’ 
said the man who owned Tom. 

“No, I have not time,” said the man, “but 
I have learned this much, not to hold cheese 
in my hand when there is a pet crow near by, ’ ’ 
and then, with a laugh, the man climbed into 
his cart and drove on. 

You see, he was the kind of man who makes 
the best of things. 

Do you think you could laugh if you had lost 
a part of your lunch % 



GLO AND THE BEES 


“THE bees are swarming! The bees are 
swarming!” Everybody ran, the hired man 
to get the empty hive for the new home, to get 
his gloves and veil so that the bees couldn’t 
sting him, and the mother to get a sheet to 
spread on the ground so that they coidd see 
when the bees fell. 

Leona and Franklin to get tin pans and big 
spoons to make a noise to drown the hum of the 
Queen bee if she took a notion to wander off, 
and little Glo for no other reason than that she 
wanted to see what was going on. 

Bees, you must know, are wiser in some ways 
than are some people. Many times when 
people are much crowded in a house they keep 
right on living in that unpleasant manner, but 


GLO AND THE BEES 23 

bees are wiser, as soon as they are crowded 
they move out or, as we call it, swarm. 

So this is what the bees were doing at this 
time. Everybody stood under the apple tree 
waiting for the bees to light somewhere. 



Everybody Rail 


Glo stood at a little distance because she was 
afraid of the bees. She had been stung once 
by one and she thought they were good things 



24 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


to keep away from. As it was early in the 
morning, her long yellow curls had not been 
combed, but hung over her shoulders in a shin- 
ing mass, which the sun shone on so that it 
looked like a pot of gold. Suddenly, what do 
you think those foolish bees did ? They made 
one swoop in a big black mass and down they 
came upon Glo ’s bright head. 

What would you have done if you had been 
in her place 1 ? Run away, or jumped up and 
down and screamed and so frightened the bees 
that they would have stung you to death % 

Glo didn’t really have time to do either of 
these things, because her mother called in her 
clear, decided voice, 

‘ ‘ Glo, don ’t you dare to move, stand perfect- 
ly still and the bees will not hurt you. ’ ’ 

This was excellent advice, but if Glo had 
been like some children I have seen who don’t 
know what it means to really obey, but always 
do the very thing they are told not to do, we do 
not like to think of what might have happened. 


GLO AND THE BEES 25 

But Glo did exactly what her mother said 
and stood as still and straight as an iron post. 
Then the hired man ran to Glo with the empty 
hive and quickly brushed the bees into it, so 
that not one of them stung Glo. And this was 
what came because a little girl knew how to 
mind her mother. 



A QUEER LUNCHEON 

EVERYBODY knows that goats eat paper, 
and some of you may have seen them do it. 
Once at the Toronto Zoo, where an elephant 
was chained to a post out of doors, I saw him 
eat a newspaper, but today something hap- 
pened which seemed even queerer than this. 

A large dray drawn by two fat mules drew 
up in front of a hotel which the driver entered 
after hitching his team. Presently he came 
out carrying in his hand an open newspaper, 
which he held close to the mouth of one of the 
mules. The mule eagerly grabbed it and 
began to chew it, rolling his eyes about as 
though he were having a feast. The team stood 
in front of the hotel for some time, while the 
driver loaded the dray with the big trunks on 


A QUEER LUNCHEON 


27 


the sidewalk, so that I had several minutes in 
which to watch the mules. By the time the 
trunks were all loaded on the dray the news- 
paper was chewed up and disappeared. As a 
newspaper was given to only one of the mules 
it was very plain that the other mule was not 
fond of printed matter. 





THE BRAVE LITTLE WRENS 


JENNY WREN stood on the porch of her 
small brown house and looked around. How 
good it seemed to breathe the fresh summer 
air again and to know that her time for sitting 
on the tiny eggs was over. 

“But I’ll have to work now,” she chirped 
softly to herself, “for those wee babies are 
great eaters.” 

She was about to spread her wings, when, at 
that moment, she saw a dreadful creature com- 
ing up the trunk of the home tree. Instantly 
forgetting the long flight that she had intended 
to take the brave little mother darted at the 
terrible monster and gave it a sharp peck on 
the head. 

Then the saucy visitor, whose name was Mr. 


THE BRAVE LITTLE WRENS 


29 


Reel Squirrel, went scurrying down the tree 
trunk faster than he had gone up, but Mrs. 
W ren was close behind him. He scampered 
across the lawn and, although his little feet 
twinkled fast, Mrs. Jenny's wings were more 
than a match for them, and now and then, she 
managed to give him a sharp peck on the head. 

Presently they passed under a tree where 
Mr. Wren sat preening his feathers and, 
though he dearly loved to make his toilet, he 
loved a good fight even better and so, he at once 
joined in the chase. 

Poor Mr. Red Squirrel, there is no telling 
what might have become of him had he not sud- 
denly espied a hole in a stump and into that he 
ran so quickly that the wrens could not see 
where he had gone. They knew that he was no 
longer there, however, and Mr. Wren flew into 
the nearest tree and sang his very best concert 
solo. 

Do you suppose that Mr. Red Squirrel re- 
peated the call on Mrs. Wren? Indeed he did 


30 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


not and I think he must have warned all his 
friends to stay away from the wren’s tree, for 
they passed the rest of the summer very 
quietly. 

You didn’t know that the wrens were such 
fighters ? 

Well, next summer if you will nail some 
boxes up against the trees the wrens will come 
and make their homes with you and then, per- 
haps, you will see them chase a red squirrel, 
just as I did. 



WHAT THE WIND DID 

IT was high noon at the Zoo, and the sun was 
hot enough to suit even the African elephant. 
He was chained in an open pen with a bundle 
of hay in front of him, and over his head was 
a sign on which was painted in large letters, 

Do Not Feed the Elephant 

The ] jolar bear was also in an open pen, but 
in the center was a large pool of water into 
which a fountain played all the while and in 
this jdooI the bear spent most of his time. 
Every five minutes he would hold his open 
mouth under the fountain and let the cool 
stream trickle down his throat, much to the 
delight of the people on the other side of his 
fence. In a wide inclosure near by, a pair of 


32 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


zebras trotted happily up and down, and 
within speaking distance a cage full of mon- 
keys chattered. 

Everywhere was that same annoying sign 
beginning, “Don’t feed the — ” to the great 
sorrow of the small boy, who had come to the 
Zoo with his pockets bursting with candy and 
peanuts. The merry south wind, however, did 
not heed this warning. In the first place winds 
can ’t read, in the second place there has never 
yet been found a way to stop the wind from 
blowing “where it listeth.” So the merry 
south wind found a large newspaper, one of 
those immense dailies which the cities turn out 
every morning, and what did this lawless wind 
do, but pick it up and whirl it about. Up one 
street and down another, over fences and low 
buildings until he laid the paper right at the 
feet of the elephant. 

“Don’t feed the elephant,” said the sign, 
but the south wind didn ’t know that and if he 
had he might have answered, ‘ ‘ Elephants don ’t 


WHAT THE WIND DID 


33 


eat newspapers, especially when a big bundle 
of sweet clover hay lies right in front of them. 
If it were a goat now, it would be different ; he 
might eat a whole library, but a self-respecting 



elephant to eat even one little bit of a news- 
paper ? 0 no, never ! ’ ’ 

Then, what do you suppose happened % The 

r 

elephant reached out his big handy trunk, 


34 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


picked up a section of tliat paper, put it into 
liis mouth and swallowed it, then another big 
section followed the first one, and so he kept 
on until not a scrap of that great paper was 
left ! 

Think of all that news going down an ele- 
phant ’s throat ! 

So, you see, the south wind had broken the 
rule of the Zoo, he had fed the elephant. 

This did not trouble the wind, however, he 
blew along on his merry way, caring as little 
about the broken rule as he did about the poor 
elephant’s digestion. Do you wonder that we 
say, “As free as the winds?” 


THE ANTS TOLD 


“WHAT in the world are you doing there?” 
asked a little black bug that was nestling close 



The Little Girl Stooped Low Down Over the Ant Hill 


to the edge of a big stone. “The air is so cold 
and damp this morning, I should think you 


36 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


would want to run into your warm nest so as 
to be out of tlie way when the rain begins.” 

“But, ” said the little brown ant to whom the 
bug had spoken, “it isn’t going to rain.” 
“How can you say that when the big black 
clouds are hanging all over the sky?” asked 
the bug. 

“No matter about the clouds,” said the ant, 

“it will not rain today.” “How can you be so 

sure?” asked the bug, and then he added after 

a minute, “but then you are only a poor little 

ant and of course you can’t be expected to 

know very much about rain or anything else. ’ ’ 

“Maybe not,” said the little ant, “but I do 

know that the rain is not coming today. If it 

were going to rain you would not see any of 

the ants working. It looks very cloudy I know 

but by and by the sun will shine out brightly, 

and that is why we are all working so busily. ’ ’ 

“Well,” said the little bug, “you think you 

are very wise, but I don’t see how you can be 
11 


so sure. 


THE ANTS TOLD 


37 


“Really I don’t know myself, but I know 
that I am sure, and that is about all that I know 
about it.” 

4 4 But suppose it should rain, then what will 
you think?” “It will be time enough to talk 
about that when the rain begins, ’ ’ was the little 
ant’s wise answer. 

After a while the bug came running to the 
ant very much frightened. 

“O see,” it said, “there comes one of those 
dreadful creatures who stand up straight and 
run around on two feet. Now it will stamp 
on your nest and maybe kill every one of you. 
I ’m going to get out of its way as soon as ever 
I can, ’ ’ and the little bug started to run oft as 
fast as it could go. 

“O come back,” called the ant, “I know all 
about that creature, it will not hurt either of 
us, it comes out here every morning to see what 
the weather is to be, so now if you will listen 
very carefully you will find out something 
about what useful creatures we ants are. ” 


38 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


“O, pshaw !” was the answer with a real bug 
laugh, “I am sure I know just as much now as 
I ever shall know, ’ ’ but he didn ’t run away as 
he had started to do but came close to the ant 
that he might not miss anything which was 
likely to happen. 

Presently he saw the “creature” who was 
only a harmless little girl come quite near the 
ant’s nest. 

“Now,” he said, “look out, Miss Ant, you’ll 
be hurt in a minute or two. ’ ’ But the ant only 
ran around after another grain of sand to 
carry into the nest. Then the little girl stooped 
low down over the ant ’s nest and the bug held 
its breath expecting something dreadful to 
happen, but in another minute the little girl 
jumped up and said, 

“No, mama, it isn’t going to rain, the ants 
are all working.” “Well, after all,” said the 
bug, “it’s a great thing to be an ant and so to 
be able to teach something to the wise human 
beings.” 


IN A GLASS BOX 


PERHAPS you may have heard of the wise 
old Greek called Diogenes, who when asked by 
King Alexander if he could do any thing for 
him, replied “Yes; get out of my sunlight.” 

I cannot take the time here to tell you about 
this gruff old fellow, perhaps your teacher 
will do that for you, but I want to tell you 
about another Diogenes. He is not so wise as 
the old Greek, perhaps, but he is quite as fond 
of the sunlight, indeed, that is the reason for 
his name. 

He has no way of letting us know just how 
wise he is, for he is only a brown chameleon 
which was brought from South Carolina and 
given to a little boy for a plaything. He lives 
in a glass box which has been his home for two 


40 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


years and in that time he has become very 
tame. He is often taken out of his box and 
allowed to run over the plants in the window 
garden. This he seems to enjoy very much. 

You have, no doubt, heard it said that the 
chameleon changes his color with whatever 
he touches, but this is not true of this one from 
South Carolina. He does change his color, it 
is true, but only when he is either much 
pleased about something, or badly frightened, 
or moved from sunlight to shade. He takes 
on the most beautiful shades of blue and green 
and sparkles like diamonds when enjoying a 
sun bath. When any member of the family 
with whom he lives, looks at him or touches 
him he does not change at all, but if a stranger 
comes to his glass house and studies him he 
pants in a frightened way and changes color at 
once. However, he will gaze steadily at the 
stranger with his jewel-like eyes, instead of 
hiding his head in a corner of the box, which 
shows he is not a coward. 



t 


Allowed to Run Over the Plants 



42 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


The chameleon’s web feet are like leaves in 
shape and he can walk up the sides of his glass 
house just as a fly does. 

He passes his time either sleeping behind 
some coarse, curly hair in one corner of his 
box, which his little master calls his ‘ ' lair, ’ ’ or 
basking in the sunlight, or playing with his 
shadow on the side of the glass box which is 
next to the wall. 

In the summer he lives high on the live flies 
which are brought to him, and you should see 
him catch one of these. When the live fly is 
put into his box he will half open his eyes, 
move his head from side to side as if measur- 
ing the distance and then with one swift dash 
he seizes the poor fly. No one has ever seen 
him miss one. In the winter he lives almost 
wholly on sugar, with now and then a fat 
spider, which must be brought to him alive 
like the flies. He pays no attention whatever 
to a dead insect. 

About once in three months the chameleon 


IN A GLASS BOX 


43 


has a new suit, that is he slips off his old one 
and shows a new one beneath. What do you 
suppose he does with his old suit ? 

He doesn 't have to hunt up a rummage sale 
to be rid of it, nor does he need to hail a tin 
peddler and trade it off for kitchen ware. No, 
he simply gathers it up and swallows it. 

One wintry day, just as he was about to 
make a luncheon in this way, his young master 
reached into the box and took his skin away 
from him, in order that he might look at it 
under the microscope. 

I thought that was rather shabby treatment, 
because it really does seem as if any creature, 
however small, ought to have a right to do as 
he likes with his own skin. Don’t you think 
so too? 


Pushed Up One of the Slats 


ROBBERS 

MR. and Mrs. Red Squirrel sat in front of 
their cozy home and talked the matter over 
seriously: there was a great scarcity of nuts 
that fall and starvation seemed to be staring 
them in the face. 



ROBBERS 


45 


“It’s boys,” said Mr. Red Squirrel, “and 
I ’m going hunting, and if I find a tree full of 
nuts I ’ll come back after you. ’ ’ 

With a whisk of his bushy tail he scampered 
down the tree-trunk and was soon out of sight. 

He went on and on, jumping from tree to 
tree, until by and by he was out of the forest. 
It was a bright moonlit night and, as far as 
Mr. Red Squirrel’s eyes could reach, he could 
see only well-tilled fields and high rail fences, 
so he jumped on the top of the nearest fence. 

“Pretty good of them,” he thought, “to • 
build this nice dry road for me to run on.” 

He ran on again along the fence rail for a 
long time. Suddenly he sat up, eagerly sniffing 
the cool night air. 

He turned his little body around and 
scanned every thing in sight. Just ahead of 
him a large, white house stood out in the moon- 
light, and his keen little nose told him that 
somewhere near it, nuts were hidden. 

He ran on again, following where his sharp- 


46 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


scented nose told him to go. Pretty soon he 
was under a window which had slat shutters 
over it and there the sweet smell was stronger 
than ever. 

Mr. Red Squirrel ran up the water spout, 

jumped on the shutter, pushed up one of the 

slats with his deft little paw and then crawled 

through the narrow opening. Ah, how strong 

was the delicious smell which he knew and 

loved so well. He jumped to the floor and 

scurried over to a large closet, the door of 

which stood open, and there, spread out on the 

floor, were nuts enough to keep himself and 

his familv fat all winter. 

«/ 

“Boys,” he scolded aloud, “so this is where 
they’ve stored the good food they’ve stolen 
from us. Well, turn about is fair play, and 
now we'll steal it back again. I wonder what 
they’ll think of that?” 

The squirrel went home at his very best 
pace, you may be sure, and all night long and 


ROBBERS 


47 


for two or three nights thereafter, he and his 
wife were a very busy pair of red squirrels. 

It was many days after this that the people 
who lived in the big, white house decided that 
they would have some walnuts to eat. One of 
the boys took a little basket and went upstairs 
after them, hut he returned with a frightened 
face. 

“Not a single nut up there,” he said. 

“Oh, vou must he mistaken,” said his 

7 t/ J 

brother ; “ ‘ nothing could get in there where 
those nuts were.” 

“Well, they have gotten in there,” said the 
other boy. ‘ ‘ I tell you there is not a nut left. ’ ’ 

So the whole family, full of curiosity, went 
upstairs to look in the closet. 

‘ ‘ They must have been queer robbers, ’ ’ said 

one of the brothers. 

“So they were, and very small ones too,” 
said his father, pointing to some tiny tracks 
on the shutters. 


48 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


“Oh,” said the boy, “I saw those little 
marks, hut I didn’t suppose that they meant 
anything.” 

“But you see now, that they do,” said the 
father, ‘ ‘ and the next time that you store nuts 
don’t leave the window open, because, as you 
have found out to your sorrow, a red squirrel 
can crawl through a very small hole.” 



THE HOLE IN THE FLOWER-BED 


ONE of the tiny yellow chickens was missing. 
The old hen clucked away just as happily to 
the nineteen that were left. She did not know 
there was one lost, because, you see, she could 
not count. The mistress could, however, and 
as she stood scattering the meal over the 
ground she counted the little flock over and 
over, but every time there were nineteen and 
no more. 

The next morning, sad to tell, there were 
only eighteen chickens, and the next morning- 
only seventeen. 

“This will never do,” said the mistress of 
the chickens. ‘ ‘ The mother hen and her babies 
must be shut up to keep them away from the 


50 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


hawk and the rats which are eating up the 
chicks. ’ ’ 

In the same yard, running about wherever 
he pleased, was a smart little dog of the kind 
known as a rat terrier. Because he was such 
a tiny fellow he was called “Noodles.” 

A few days after the loss of the chickens 
Noodles followed his master into the barn. 
Suddenly there was a swift pounce in one of 
the corners, and, as his master turned quickly, 
he saw the tiny dog standing there with a big 
rat in his month, which he killed with one 
fierce shake. Before his master could either 
speak or move, off ran Noodles with the rat 
still in his mouth to the big flower-bed and 
began digging a hole in the soft earth. 

The master watching from the barn door 
saw little Noodles push the dead rat into the 
hole and then cover it over, leaving the tail 
sticking out, however, for it was a big rat, more 
than half as big as Noodles himself. 

1 1 1 must bury the rat deeper than that, ’ ’ said 


THE HOLE IN THE FLOWER-BED 51 


the master, going to the barn after the shovel. 

When he came back to the place in the 
flower-bed and began digging a deeper hole in 
which to put the rat, what do- you suppose he 
found ? 



But Every Time There Were Nineteen and No More 


There was the twentieth little chicken that 
had been missing and the nineteenth and the 
eighteenth. 

You see Noodles had made of this hole in the 
flower-bed a sort of grave-yard; he hadn’t 
tried to eat them any more than he had the rat. 


52 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


And how do you suppose he had been able 
to get them out of the big coop in which they 
were penned? He had gone close up to the 
boards, dug a way under them with his two 
little paws, until he had made a good-sized 
hole, then he would sit down by that hole and 
patiently wait and when the chicken came out, 
quickly he would grab it — and that was the 
end of the little chicken. 

So, after they had found out his bad tricks 
Noodles was shut out of the beautiful back 
yard, because they knew that it was he who 
had killed the chickens and not a hawk or 
a rat. 

I am sure you will be glad to know that there 
were not any more missing chickens. But 
wasn’t it too bad that Noodles had to be shut 
out of the green and shady back yard? 


THROUGH THE KNOT-HOLE 

MABEL was sitting on the back porch string- 
ing beads. A few feet away from her was a 
high board fence and when she looked up sud- 
denly from her work her eyes fell upon a large 
knot-hole in the fence. 

“Why,” she exclaimed, half aloud, “what 
a beautiful red flower ; I wonder how it ever 
came there ?” 

She knew there was a bed of caraway on the 
other side of the fence just where the knot-hole 
was, but she knew also that the red blossom did 
not belong to the caraway. Then she made up 
her mind that she would see what it was. So 
she ran on down the garden, pushed open the 
gate, and was soon where the caraway was, but 
the pretty red flower was nowhere to be seen. 


54 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


“Shoo!” she said to the old Plymouth Rock 
rooster and his flock of hens who were scratch- 
ing away near the caraway bed, “I just be- 
lieve you have dug up my pretty red flower.” 

She looked all around very carefully hut 



i 


Put Her Eye to the Knot-hole 


she could find no trace of anything which 
looked at all like a red flower, so she went 
slowly back to her seat on the porch. 

She sat down again and began her pleasant 
task of stringing beads. By and by she looked 


THROUGH THE KNOT-HOLE 


55 


up from her work, and then a strange thing 
happened again. Her eye fell on the beautiful 
flower waving about in the air just as it had 
done before. She didn’t wait to go to the gate 
this time but ran straight to the knot-hole and 
put her eye close to it. 

What do you suppose she saw? 

Stop a minute to think and see if you can 
guess, then read this to your mother and see 
if she can tell. 

“How,” you wdll say to yourself, “the title 
of this book says that it is stories about birds, 
insects and animals, and this one is only about 
a flow y er. ’ ’ But wait until you read on a little 
farther. 

What Mabel saw when she looked through 
the knot-hole was the speckled neck of the 
Plymouth Rock rooster just reaching above 
the carawav, and on the end of his neck were 
his big red wattles and his heavy red comb. 
When looking through the knot-hole from a 
distance, as Mabel had done at first, the 


56 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


rooster’s neck was not visible and the comb 
and wattles looked, as he turned his head 
about, exactly like a large, red flower waving 
in the air. 

So, after all, this is a story about a bird, for 
a rooster is a bird, isn’t it? 






Too Proud to Follow Them 




A WARM BREAKFAST 

THERE was once a foolish little sparrow that 
thought he could take such good care of him- 
self that he would never need to ask any help 
from any other bird. 

He, with some other English sparrows, had 
a nice cosy place to sleep. There were some 
holes in a factory wall which led into a resting 



58 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


place just above the engine; nothing could 
have been better for a sleeping place, but O, it 
was neither comforting nor comfortable to 
come out of that warm place on a cold morning 
and find the ground frozen so hard that not a 
crumb could be picked up anywhere. Al- 
though this sparrow that liked to keep to 
himself noticed that the birds all flew off some- 
where and came back looking well fed and 
happy, he was too proud to follow them and 
try to see just where they found their food, 
so there was nothing left for him but to wander 
about picking a crumb here and there and 
feeling hungry nearly all the time. 

One morning when he came out of his warm 
sleeping place he found a white world before 
him. It looked as if some soft, white covering 
had been let down in the night over everything. 

“I shall die now, I know,” he chirped ; “not 
a morsel to eat anywhere in sight. ’ ’ 

When the other sparrows flew away, as they 
did every morning, he tried to follow them, but 


A WARM BREAKFAST 


59 


he was so weak from having so little food that 
he could not keep up with them and they were 
soon out of sight. He flew along a little farther 
and then stopped to rest in an apple tree which 
grew near a large brick house. As he sat there 
chirping softly to himself and thinking his 
own sad thoughts he suddenly heard the spar- 
row voices quite near him, although he could 
not see them. 

“What a good breakfast this is,” he heard 
next in good plain sparrow talk ; “better than 
ever, it seems this morning. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said another voice, “that is because 
the snow has come and covered everything 
over. These good people know that if they 
don’t feed us we shall starve to death.” 

“And so warm, too. O my, it makes me 
warm all the way through ! ’ ’ 

1 ‘ Plenty of it, too, ’ ’ said another, 4 ‘ no need 

to go hungry.” 

This was too much for the cold and hungry 
sparrow. All his proud resolutions not to be 


60 REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 

helped by anyone melted away. He flew down 
to the ground and hopped in the direction of 
the sparrows’ voices. 

He was not long in finding them. They were 
all safe in a little shed where the snow could 
not come, and on the ground some kind hand 
had spread the daintiest breakfast which had 
ever gladdened a hungry sparrow’s stomach. 
How the little fellow did eat! and after that 
whenever the breakfast was spread for that 
hungry flock, the other little fellow which had 
always kept by himself, was with them. 

That was better, wasn’t it? 



THEIR SUMMER HOME 


THEY built it in the top of a great maple tree, 
where the leaves were the thickest, and no one 
knew it was there but themselves, for no other 
eyes but their own had ever seen it. 

This maple tree grew so close to the house 
that the branches swept the roof of the wide 
front porch which ran all the way around the 
house. 

Two large second story windows fronted on 
the roof of this porch and there mother and 
father squirrel came every day to ask for food. 

They had the prettiest trick of coming to 
these windows, standing on their hind feet 
with their dainty front paws held up in front 
of them and looking so wistfully for the wal- 
nuts which they thought they ought to have 


62 REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


whenever they came after them. They would 
try first one window and then the other, seem- 
ing to feel so sure that they would not be left 
long without the dainty morsel they loved so 
well, then when a cracked black walnut was 
given them they would hold it in their cunning 



Mother and Father Squirrel 


little paws and pick the kernels out with their 
sharp white teeth. 

If uncracked walnuts were given them thev 
would quickly run off with them and bury 
them in the ground. 

Someone who professed to know all about 


THEIR SUMMER HOME 


63 


squirrels said that they did that to let the shells 
soften so that they could crack them more 
easily, but for this I cannot vouch. Although 
I have seen them many times dig holes in the 
ground to bury their nuts, just as a dog buries 
a bone, yet I have never seen one dig up a nut. 

Everyone wondered why the squirrels 
stayed around that maple tree so much. One 
day someone said, 

“I believe the squirrels have a nest in that 
tree.” Then someone else said, “O, no, squir- 
rels don’t build nests in green trees, but in 
holes in hollow stumps and such places.” 

By and by two little ones were seen with the 
old ones and when these were nearly grown 
they also came to be fed. Then it seemed more 
than ever as if there must be a nest in the big 
maple tree, but still the wise people said, 

“No, squirrels don’t build nests in branches 

of trees.” 

In spite of the wise ones, however, we 
couldn’t help wondering why they were in the 


64 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


tree so much. They would sleep there spread 
out on the branches and look so comfortable 
and happy and as if they owned the tree. 

So the summer passed, and we enjoyed our 
little friends to the full. October came, the 
sharp winds blew and soon the beautiful yellow 
maple leaves began to fall. 

One morning after the wind had been blow- 
ing furiously all night, we found our beautiful 
maple tree standing cold and naked, not a 
single limb wearing a dress of leaves, and 
there, at the very tip top, what do you suppose 
we saw? 

The squirrels ’ nest. It was so very different 
from any birds’ nest, that we knew we could 
not mistake it. In the first place it was not 
round, as are all birds’ nests, but was oblong 
and boxlike in shape and was more than four 
times as large as a robin’s nest. We could also 
see that it was built of much coarser material 
than birds ever use. 

We have always been sorry that we did not 


__ THEIR SUMMER HOME 65 

take its picture so that you could see just how 
their cosy summer home looks, and then too, 
if the picture were only here, you could say, 
‘ 1 1 know squirrels do build nests in trees for I 
have seen a picture of one of their nests.” 

But this, I am sure, was only their summer 
home, for they had left it for some other place 
even before we discovered it and only came 
now and then to the window for food. Did 
they come back to the same nest next summer % 
How I wish I knew, but when the next summer 
came we were far away from that beautiful 
maple tree, and we never heard anything about 
our summer friends. 



* 




‘MUST LIKE FOLKS” 


ST’ CH a time in Cooptown ! Where is Coop- 
town”? Well, it is two wooden chicken coops 
on the east side of the barn where the hot after- 
noon sun cannot reach them. During the long 
summer day they lie over on their backs and 
are of no use to anyone, and Cooptown is very 
still and quiet. 

But when the sun hangs so low in the west 
that you can barely see the rim of it, then 
Betsy and Sally, two motherly old hens, come 
“cluck-cluck-clucking” home from the fields, 
with their young broods, where they have been 
busy all day scratching for worms and chasing 
bugs and flies for themselves and their little 
ones. 

When Jane hears that “cluck-cluck-cluck- 


“JUST LIKE FOLKS” 


67 


ing” she comes from the house, turns the coops 
forward and puts sticks or stones under the 
edges so that there is room for Mrs. Betsy and 
Mrs. Sally to walk into their coops, call their 
babies together, and settle down for the night. 

But on this night that I am telling about 
Jane had scattered a little more grain under 
Betsy’s coop than she had under Sally’s. 

I am sorry to tell you that Sally was a very 
greedy old mother hen and she always wanted 
the most and the best of everything. So what 
did she do but walk into Betsy’s coop instead 
of her own. Jane, thinking that Sally wanted 
to trade homes with Betsy, turned the coop 
down over her and so shut her in. 

Then the fuss began. Sally raged around 
inside the coop like a wild hen, clucking and 
scolding in her very best style, while Betsy tore 
around outside the coop, making quite as much 
noise over being shut out of her own home as 
Sally did over being shut in a home that was 
not hers. 



She Broke A wav From Jane’s Hands 



" p '■■■■ ■ ■ "I 

“JUST LIKE FOLKS” 69 

J ane took hold of Betsy, for she was as tame 
as a hen could be, and tried to push her into 
Sally’s coop where there was plenty to eat. 
But this did not suit Betsy at all. She broke 
away from Jane’s hands, stormed around out- 
side her own coop and puffed out her red 
feathers until she was twice her natural size. 

Finally Jane made up her mind that the 
trade was off, since it seemed to suit neither 
party, so she lifted Betsy’s coop from the 
ground. Sally walked out, and Betsy walked 
in, but she strutted around scolding and cluck- 
ing as though after Sally’s presence there, a 
thorough house-cleaning was needed. At last, 
after a great deal of scratching and several 
turnings around in the shallow hole in which 
she sat every night, she seemed to make up her 
mind that she had straightened things out 
enough so that it was like home once more. 

Sally had gone into her own coop and had 
quickly cuddled down in her corner as though 
she had never been out of it. 


70 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


At last the babies were safely gathered into 
their own coops and all was quiet again in 
“Cooptown.” 

“Well, I declare,” said Jane, with a long 
sigh, “if fowls aren’t just like folks!” 




“WHAT HAPPENED?” 


AN old gray rat lived in a barn and feasted 
on the liorse feed which was kept in a large 
open box. 

One morning when he went to this box to 
get his breakfast he found nothing there for 
him. This had happened before, but as the 
box had always been filled up very soon he did 
not worry but ran around on the barn floor, 
thinking that the owner of the barn would 
come in soon with more food. But this time 
the food did not come and poor Mr. Rat grew 
so hungry at last that he left the barn, hoping 
to find something to eat in the barnyard. But 
not a crumb could he pick up. 

As he was running along past a high board 
fence he suddenly spied through a hole some 


72 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


tiny creatures running around on the other 
side of the fence. 

“They are little things,” he said to himself, 
“and I am sure I can catch one.” 



1 Am Sure to Catch One 


So in a minute he had run through the hole, 
caught up a little yellow chicken and made off 
to his nest under the barn. 

This was all very well for his breakfast, hut 
in a few hours he was hungry again and, as 


“WHAT HAPPENED” 


73 


the feed-box was still empty, he ran to the hole 
in the fence. 

Yes, there were the dainty, little creatures 
running around on the grass, but this time a 
bigger creature was with the little ones and 
seemed to be calling to them every minute with 
a funny noise in her throat. Mr. Rat was not 
afraid of the old mother, however. He thought 
himself a match for anything except a man, 
a cat, or a dog, and a few times in his life he 
had been too much even for these. So he went 
boldly through the hole and came swiftly and 
silently up behind the plumpest chick in 
the lot. 

Then something struck him, he didn’t 
know what. His head was pecked, his back 
was nipped, his eye was dug into ; in short he 
seemed to have something pouncing upon him 
which was worse than a dozen cats. He tried 
to fight back but it was no use. At last he 
managed to tear away from the sharp claws 
and the hard beak, and making a quick run 


74 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


he found himself safely back in the shelter of 
the barn. 

Did he have any more chickens to eat? Not 
he. He had lost all taste for the dainty flesh. 

Sometimes he peeped through the crack, 
but the big bunch of feathers all snowy white 
was always right there on hand, with its soft 
‘ ‘ cluck, cluck, ’ ’ and as soon as Mr. Rat caught 
sight of her he ran away from that hole just 
as fast as ever he could go. 

Wise old rat, was he not? He did not mean 
to be caught twice in the same way, and in 
that I think he was wiser than some boys and 
girls that I have heard about. 


THE TRAP 


ONE day in the middle of a cold Michigan 
winter, a kind-hearted boy was roaming about 
in the woods on his father’s farm, when he 
heard a cry which sounded like an animal in 

t/ 

trouble of some sort. 

The boy at once began searching around 
very carefully, to find just where the sound 
came from. After a long time he found snug- 
gled down in a big hollow log a poor little baby 
fox. There was no other animal of any kind 
in sight, and the poor little fox was not only 
shivering with cold but seemed too weak to 
stand alone. 

“You poor little fellow,” said the tender- 
hearted boy, taking him up in his arms and 
snuggling him down under his warm coat; 



The Fox’s Little House 


THE TRAP 


77 


“how I wish I could know just where your 
mother is, I would take you to her this very 
minute.” 

The little fellow seemed well suited with his 
new shelter and his crying soon ceased alto- 
gether. The boy stood for a few minutes near 
the empty log, hoping that the mother would 
appear, hut everything was quiet and as far 
as he could see there was no sign of any living 
creature but himself and the baby fox, so he 
turned about and went off home as fast as his 
smart young feet could carry him. 

As soon as he had reached his comfortable 
home the fox was given some warm milk to 
drink and then a nice warm bed was made for 
him in a corner of the cow stable. 

“Now,” said the boy, “we will have some 
good times getting acquainted with each 
other. ’ ’ 

And so they did. The boy spent all of his 
leisure time with the fox and he soon learned 
to know his young master from the rest of the 


78 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


family. He would come to him when called 
and would follow him around like a dog. Mr. 
Pox grew fast too, and by the time spring had 
come, he was full grown. Then trouble began. 
His fond young master found out that he was 
a real fox, for he began catching and eating 
the fat little chickens just like any bad wild 
fox who had to catch his own living wherever 
he could find it. This, you may be sure, made 
his young master very sad, for he said to him- 
self, “‘Now they will kill my dear little pet.” 

But nothing of the kind happened. Instead, 
the boy ’s father paid a carpenter a great many 
dollars to build a nice house for Mr. Pox to 
live in. He built it with a peaked roof, two 
imitation windows and a real little door which 
could be shut up as closely as yours or mine. 

Then a nice new collar was bought for Mr. 
Pox’s neck, and a long steel chain was fastened 
to the collar and the other end was caught in 
a big staple which was driven into the fox’s 
house. So vou see, Mr. Pox was made all warn? 

%y 7 


THE TRAP 


79 


and “comfy,” but he couldn’t get away to 
catch any more of old mother hen’s dear, little, 
fluffy chickens. He seemed to know that they 
had managed to spoil his fun, for he would run 
out to the full length of his chain, then lie down 
and look with such longing eyes at the little 
chicks running around just safely beyond his 
reach. Sometimes the little chicks would come 
pretty close to the fox to pick up the dainty 
bits that he had left lying about, but as soon 
as they went too near the old hen would cluck 
her loudest to call them away from the danger. 

Then one day a queer thing happened. 
When the boy brought the fox’s dinner to him, 
instead of eating it up as fast as he could, as 
he usually did, he took his cunning little paws 
and scraped the dinner into a nice heap not 
very far from the door of his house. The boy ’s 
mother, who was working beside the pantry 
window, saw him doing this and made up her 
mind that Foxie was getting ready for some 
mischief, so she kept her eyes on him. After 


80 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


the dinner was all put together in a neat little 
pile, Mr. Pox pulled all the sticks and weeds 
and whatever stuff he could reach into another 
neat little pile and shoved it up in front of the 
door of his house. Then he crawled into his 
house behind the nice screen that he had fixed 
so cunningly, pulling all the sticks and other 
stuff close up against the open door. 

Now you will see, I trust, that everything 
looked all right ; there was no sign of the fox 
anywhere, just that pretty little mound in 
front of his door. So the chickens began 
coming closer and closer to the door, although 
the old mother hen clucked her loudest. She 
was not cheated by the trap he had so cun- 
ningly laid, and she said just as plainly as she 
could, “Better keep away, better keep away.” 

But I suppose those wise little chicks said 
to each other: 

“O, mother is so fussy! There is no harm 
there. Just see how quiet and safe everything 
is ; it is just as safe there as it is here, and all 


THE TRAP 


81 


that lovely dinner going to waste, when we are 
nearly starving for something good to eat be- 
sides bugs and flies.” 

Then one of the chickens, bolder than any 
of the others, went right up to the good dinner 
and began to eat. It had taken only two or 
three mouthfuls when, dash, pounce, out came 
that bad fox through that nice little screen and 
caught the tender chick in his cruel paws. If 
the mother who was watching from the pantry 
hadn’t made a few quick jumps and hit the 
bad fox with a big stick, there would have been 
one less chick in the yard. 

After that they took great care to keep Mr. 
Fox’s yard swept clean of sticks and rub- 
bish of all kinds, so that he never again had 
a chance to fix up a cunning trap. 


GRIP 


BRADY was an old soldier, who stopped one 
day at Kiniley farmhouse, that comfortable 
place where there was always plenty to eat. 
When they found that the poor old soldier had 
no home, hut stayed wherever he could get 
work to do, they took him in to “do the chores. ’ ’ 

When he had been at the Kimley farm about 
six months, he was taken ill with the “grip,” 
but they gave him such good care that he grew 
better, and one day when he was sitting up for 
the first time, one of the hired men came into 
his room, saying : 

“I’m bringing you a caller, Mr. Brady, he 
just came to the back door and asked to come 


GRIP 


83 


Mr. Brady looked around, and there stood 
a big, half starved shepherd dog. 

“Poor fellow, we’ll call him ‘Grip',” said 
Mr. Brady, reaching out his thin hand to pat 
the dog on the head, ‘ ‘ I am sure he ’s a very wise 
dog, since he knew enough to stop at a good 
place ; you and I, Grip, will be good friends, 
I know. ’ ’ 

And so it proved. The days rolled into 
months and months into years, and Mr. Brady 
and Grip stayed on at the Kimley farm and 
loved each other more and more. 

No one ever came to claim kindred to the 
man, or ownership of the dog, and nothing was 
ever known of their former lives: the man 
wouldn ’t tell his story and the dog couldn ’t tell 
his. 

Ten years passed away thus, then something 
happened. Mr. Kimley brought home a hand- 
some St. Bernard dog. 

“Grip is growing old,” he said, “and we 
must have another dog to take his place.” 


84 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


Grip resented this very much. He barked 
at the new-comer, snapped at him, and would 
not share his meals with him. 

One cold evening he was so very surly to the 
St. Bernard, refusing to make room for him 
before the fire, that Mr. Brady lost his temper 
and for the first time in his life he boxed Grip’s 
ears. With a low whine Grip immediately 
slunk off to the door, which was opened by one 
of the men, and the poor fellow was seen no 
more that night. 

When the whole of the next day passed and 
Grip did not appear, Mr. Brady was fright- 
ened and began to hunt for his old friend. 

He finally found him in one of the barns, 
hidden in the hay-mow. Brady called him in 
the most loving tones, but Grip refused to obey. 
So Mr. Brady brought some food out on a plate 
and, as Grip took no notice of it, he left it there, 
thinking he would eat it when alone. But 
when he went again, several hours later, the 
food was still untouched. This state of things 


GRIP 


85 


lasted for several days, the poor dog seeming 
to fade away before the eyes of his faithful 
friend. Soon, Mr. Brady also lost his appetite, 
and became careless and forgetful about his 
work. Mr. Kimley noticed this, and as he was 
a very kind man, he said to one of the men one 
day, 

‘ ‘ What is the matter with Brady ? I fear he 
is going to be ill, better get him to take some 
medicine.” 

He was then told all about Grip. He looked 
very serious, but said nothing. His married 
daughter, who had been making quite a long 
visit at her old home, was packing her trunk 
to leave that day, so he went to the foot of the 
stairs and called to her, 

“Mary, do you want to take the St. Bernard 
home with you ? ’ ’ 

“Indeed, I do,” answered Mary quickly. 

“Very well, then, he is yours,” said her 
father, “he does not seem to be wanted here.” 

But the strangest part of this true story is 


86 REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 

that the St. Bernard had not been gone two 
hours when 0 rip came dragging himself to 
the house and gladly ate the food which the 
maid gave him, wagging his tail every minute. 

‘ 1 Grip, old fellow, ’ ’ said Mr. Kimley, patting 
him on the head, “we’ll wait until yon are dead 
before we bring on your successor.” 

So the two friends, Mr. Brady and Grip, 
still live on at the Kimley farm, and although 
both are what we call “old,” the man seventv 
and the dog at least fifteen or sixteen, they are 
still leading happy and useful lives together. 



THE CAT AND THE SQUIRREL 


THEY were less than ten feet apart; the 
squirrel was on the fence, the cat was on the 
grape arbor, and if yon will stop to think a 
minute, you will see that the cat was several 
feet above the squirrel. 

You are perhaps wondering how the squirrel 
could be on the fence when they are supposed 
to be found only in the woods. But this hap- 
pened in a town where the squirrels ran 
about the streets and were almost as tame as 
the dogs and cats. The cat was holding his 
head low down to the arbor and he was waving 
his tail, which was swollen to twice its natural 
size, angrily back and forth. He looked as if 
he meant to pounce upon the squirrel in a 
minute or two and finish him, but the pretty 


88 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


little squirrel did not seem at all frightened. 
He sat up in the cunning way they have, his 
bushy tail spread out behind him and he was 
scolding away at the cat in his funny chatter- 
ing talk as if he thought he could frighten the 
cat to death. They sat thus for a long time, 
each one seemed waiting for the other to make 
the first dash. After awhile the squirrel 
seemed to think it was time to stop scolding 
and do something. He came down on his fore 
feet and swept along the fence like a flash. 
Scat ! went the cat from the grape arbor to the 
fence and away he went after the squirrel 
almost as fast as he. Hot quite though, for 
before the cat had reached the end of the fence 
the squirrel was hidden in the thick green 
leaves of a big maple tree which grew near the 
end of the fence. The cat paused and looked 
around surprised, he could hear the saucy 
squirrel still scolding and chattering but he 
could not see him. 

How cats can climb trees, as you know, very 


THE CAT AND THE SQUIRREL 


89 


well, and I dare say this cat would have gone 
after the squirrel, but you see he could not take 
a flying leap into the tree as the squirrel had 
done, he would have to jump to the ground and 
then get up the tree. So while he was making 
up his mind about doing that, what did this 
saucy squirrel do but come out on a big limb, 
scold away a minute at the cat, then take 
another leap into the next tree and then away 
he went where the cat could not see him any 
more. Don’t you think the reason he was so 
bold in staying near the cat, was because he 
knew that no matter how smart the cat might 
be he could not run and leap from tree to tree 
as he could ? 

Did the cat chase the squirrel any farther 0 ? 
ISTo, for he also was smart enough to know that 
he was no match for those swiftly flying and 
far-jumping feet. 

“I suppose,” he said to himself, “I can catch 
a mouse as well as the best of them, but I don ’t 
believe I care very much for squirrels any- 


90 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


way.” So lie went back to his home and lay 
down on the porch looking as happy as though 
he had never heard of such a creature as a 
squirrel. 

So he was a pretty wise old cat after all, 
wasn ’t he % 





“PORKY” 


NO, this is not a story about a pig, but there is 
a funny little animal called a porcupine, and 
hunters have shortened his name into 
“Porky,” even though he is not in the least 
like a pig. 

We are told by old woodsmen that the 
Michigan forests were at one time full of these 
queer little animals. They also tell us that 
toward spring when the sun begins to shine 
out and the days grow warmer the little crea- 
tures could be heard calling to each other in 
high, whining voices, just like naughty, fret- 
ful children, and then the Indians would say, 

‘ ‘ The Porkys are calling, a thaw is coming, ’ ' 
and sure enough, in a few days, the thaw 
would be on hand, all of the ice and snow would 


92 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


melt away and all of the people would say, 
“Spring has come, spring has come !” 

The Michigan forests are now fast disap- 
pearing and with them must go the little por- 
cupine. 

4 

The porcupine is small in size and in shape 
very much like a raccoon. He has bright, full 
eyes, and the hack and sides of his body are 
covered with sharp quills, dirty white in color 
with light brown tips. His tail, which is short 
and broad, is a good thing for you to keep 
away from, because with it Mr. Porky can 
strike a sharp, hard blow, and he can also leave 
the sharp quills in whatever he strikes. He 
has sharp teeth with which he peels oft the 
barks of his favorite trees. He does not bur- 
row up, or go to sleep for the winter, but he 
will live and grow fat where other creatures 
would starve to death. His favorite food in 
summer is the green pads of the pond lilies, 
when he can get them without going too far 


“PORKY” 


93 


into the water. He sleeps high in the trees 
out of harm’s way, just as does the raccoon. 

Although the porcupine is slow in his mo- 
tions and gentle in his disposition, he is by 
no means a pleasant enemy. When he sees 
danger ahead he makes himself into a round 
bunch with his head down and his blunt nose 
covered by his fore paws. Then his dirty 
white quills with their light brown, sharp tips 
stand up all around, so that when seen from 

the back he looks like a funny ball tied around 

«/ 

with a pointed white ruffle. Many a bold dog 
has learned the sharpness of these quills to 
its sorrow. One blow from the porcupine’s 
strong, flat tail is enough to send the pluckiest 
dog away howling with pain and to give his 
owners a long and tedious job pulling the 
quills out of the dog’s flesh with a pair of 
tweezers. Three people will he needed for this 
task, two to hold the dog and one to pull the 
quills. 


94 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


Porcupines have been kept caged, and, as 
they are greedy little things and take easily 
to the food of human beings, they will stay 
quietly through the winter in a cage, but as 
soon as the spring comes they will gnaw their 
way out if possible, and take to their beloved 
and natural home, the woods. 

One day a bold Porky wandered into the 
yard of a lumberman’s home in Northern 
Michigan. He was a funny sight to the chil- 
dren who watched him from the window as he 
went up and down their croquet ground with 
his short, mincing steps. He walked just like 
a girl who is wearing shoes too tight for her. 
This funny gait is caused by the feet not work- 
ing themselves, as do those of other animals, 
but they have to be lifted one at a time, this 
giving to the animal a side-wise motion. This 
funny gait was amusing the children very 
much and the porcupine was doing no harm, 
but the hired man thought he ought to be 
killed ; just what his reasons were for this 


“PORKY” 


95 


opinion we never found out. So, as the hired 
man happened to have an umbrella in his 
hand, he began to pound poor Porky with all 
his might with the umbrella. This did not 
harm Mr. Porky at all, except to rob him of 
a few quills, which he could easily spare. The 
children called to the hired man with all their 
might to let the porcupine alone, but he chased 
him out of the yard and he jumped into a creek 
near by, which as the porcupine hates water 
he very seldom does, and so he escaped the 
hired man, much to the delight of the children. 


THE WEASEL AND THE CHIPMUNK 


ONE bright spring morning the woods rang 
with the sound of axes, for several men were 
cutting down the great oak trees. 



Ran a Fat Little Chipmunk 

Suddenly, almost under the feet of the men, 
ran a fat little chipmunk, and in hot chase 
after it, came a slim, white weasel, so close 



THE WEASEL AND THE CHIPMUNK 97 


that it seemed as if he must catch the chip- 
munk. If he had caught it do you know what 
would have happened ? He would have taken 
the chipmunk by the throat and sucked the 
little creature’s blood until its life was gone. 
The men knew this, and so to save the chip- 
munk, one of them threw a great club at the 
weasel, and although it was not hit, it darted 
off in a different direction from that taken by 
the chipmunk. 

But then a strange thing happened, the 
chipmunk, instead of disappearing, as had 
the w r easel, came back to the spot where the 
men were working and played around among 
the brush piles and leaves until the men went 
home to dinner. 

Was the little creature wise enough to know 
that it was among friends'? Or could it, by 
any chance, have had a nest somewhere among 
the brush piles f I have wondered a great deal 
about the action of this chipmunk, for, you 


98 REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 

must know, this is something which really 
happened and not a made-up story. 

What do you think was the reason the chip- 
munk stayed so long with the men? 




THE CAT AND THE BLUE JAYS 

ONE summer some blue jays built a nest in 
the bushes which grew near the home of a big 
black cat. During the time of nest building 
and egg hatching the cat paid no attention to 
the old birds. 

At last came the young birds, then they, 
after many days, began to try their wings and 
made several short flights without any acci- 
dent. 

One unlucky day one of these little fellows 
thought that he was now strong enough to take 
a longer flight. He spread his wings and 
started for a big oak tree quite far away, where 
his mother sat preening her feathers. He was 
half way there, and I’m sure his little bird 


* * 


100 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


heart was beating gladly, when alas, down he 
went on the ground. 

The big, black cat had been patiently wait- 
ing and watching for this very time, and she 
had her paw firmly on the little bird the mo- 
ment it touched the grass. But the old birds 
were watching too, and down they swooped 
close to the cat’s head. Their loud cries fright- 
ened the cat so much that, although she kept 
her paw on the bird ’s head she could not harm 
him, she was so busy watching the old birds. 
They circled around and around the cat as if 
meaning any moment to peck her eyes out, and 
all the while they kept up their wild cries. 

At last the people in the house heard their 
cries and, as they knew Madame Puss very 
well, they came running out to see what was 
going on, and they did not need to look twice. 
The man siezed a croquet mallet and ran at the 
cat. This was too much for her, it was even 
worse than the screeching birds, for there was 
some slight chance of catching one of them, 


THE CAT AND THE BLUE JAYS 101 


even in spite of tlieir provoking wings, but she 
well knew that she was no match for that big 
stick when in her master ’s hands. 

So she took her paw oft the poor little bird, 
and ran as fast as she could until she was safely 
stowed away under the porch, where she knew 
no one could reach her. 

Then the little bird, none the worse for its 
few moments’ lying under the cat’s paw, ex- 
cept that its feathers were somewhat ruffled, 
flew back again to the home bush. 

Several hours after this the owners of the 
cat saw a funny sight. She came slowly from 
her hiding place under the porch and walking 
slyly across the lawn, jumped upon a rustic 
seat which stood directly under the bush where 
the jays lived. This was the cat’s favorite 
resting place, and she had spent most of her 
daylight hours, since the coming of the warm 
weather, sleeping on this bench. But now all 
was changed, she had no sooner placed herself 
there, than there was a terrible commotion 


102 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


from the old birds : they came at the cat just 
as they had done before, circling close to her 
head and giving their terrible cries of distress. 
The cat ’s face was a picture of fear, though she 
would, now and then, make a frantic, but use- 
less, dash at the birds with her paws. They 
kept up this attack until at last strong, fierce 
and cunning as was the cat, she was fairly 
frightened away. When she jumped from the 
bench and started toward the house they flew 
after her, chasing her to the very threshold of 
the door. 

From that time until the young birds had 
flown away there was no more peace for the cat 
on the lawn. The moment she appeared the 
birds flew at her, as before, and drove her out 
of sight. And yet, this is the strangest part of 
this true story, they had not seemed to know 
of the cat’s existence until she had tried to 
catch one of the young birds ; and now, who 
shall say that birds have no memory ? 


JUMBO AN!) THE PAIL 


THE little Scotch terrier stood on the porch 
and sniffed the cool morning air, he was very 
hungry, for the careless cook had forgotten to 
give him his breakfast, and, as he stood there, 
he was wondering where he should go for some- 
thing to eat. 

Pretty soon he caught the scent of cooked 
meat, and so off he trotted to find it. Down the 
veranda steps, across the lawn and up the 
street he went, for his black little nose was 
telling him where to go. 

When he came to a large brick house with a 
smooth, well-kept lawn in front of it, he turned 
about and trotted up the stone walk which led 
to the rear of the house. At the foot of the back 
steps was an old tin pail, and down in the very 


104 


REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


bottom of that pail were three big bones which 
had not been picked clean. 

Jumbo, in spite of his big sounding name, 
was a very little fellow and it was a long way 
to the bottom of the pail. 

However, little as he was, he did not mean to 
be balked by a trifle, now that the meat was 
within sight, if not within reach. So the next 
thing he did was to put his two little paws on 
the rim of the pail, and as it was very light in 
weight, having so little in it, but one thing 
could happen; it tipped over. This suited 
Jumbo exactly, and he thrust his shaggy head 
into the pail and set his white teeth on the big- 
gest bone. 

But, O dear ! when he tried to draw his head 
out of the pail, so that he might eat his tidbit 
in comfort, he found that his head did not come 
out of the pail as easily as it had gone into it. 
He was much surprised to find the battered old 
pail hanging on to his neck, and he at once 
began to shake his head as hard and as fast 


JUMBO AND THE PAIL 


105 


as lie could. But this did not help him at all, 
he only banged the pail around on the stone 
walk, making a great clatter without in the 
least helping him to be free. Pie couldn’t 
know, poor little fellow, that a broken and 
jagged piece of the tin had caught in his collar 
and was holding the old tin pail fast around his 
neck. 

Pretty soon he began to hark, for by this 
time he was angry. As he was only a little 
Scotch terrier, he didn ’t know any better than 
to think the pail was to blame for his trouble, 
nothing of the kind had ever happened to him 
before and, so, of course, he couldn’t under- 
stand it at all. 

As his head was inside of the pail, his bark 
sounded so queer that the people in the house 
ran to the window to learn the cause of the 
strange noise. Then they saw a very funny 
sight, a tin pail bobbing around with only half 
of a dog to be seen, and part of the time, it was 
hard to tell which was pail and which was dog. 


106 REAL OUT-OF-DOOR STORIES 


Presently a little girl who was looking ont 
of the window, made up her mind what the 
trouble was and she said, 

“I’m going out to help the poor little dog.” 

As she came running down the steps, the 
dog, who had been teased a great deal by bad 
children, was in such a fright that he shook his 
head harder than ever, throwing himself and 
the old pail around so much that the jagged 
end of tin was broken loose and the battered 
old bucket rolled off into the corner. 

Jumbo did not stop to look after it, you may 
he sure, he was so glad to be free that he even 
seemed to forget the bones which he had been 
trying so hard to get. 

The strangest part of this little story is that, 
although J umbo had been in the habit of com- 
ing every day to pick food out of the old pail, 
he was never seen in that back yard again. 


Finis 


OMICAU ARCUS 



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